Nearly Went Dumpster Diving

Usually R and I do the grocery shopping on the weekend when Mike is home to stay with the other kiddos, but yesterday I opened the fridge and realized I didn't even have anything for supper. So, I loaded my crew and we went to the store. I planned to just grab as much as we could until S got antsy in her stroller, then we'd head home.

We made about half the aisles. While the boys helped me fill the basket, R kept S entertained with snacks and toys. When we reached the bread aisle I noticed S was getting pretty tired of sitting, so that was our cue to wrap things up. We zipped through the check out lane and steeled ourselves to go back out into the heat. We reached the car, buckled S in, folded and loaded the stroller, packed the groceries around it, sweated (it's still in the 100s here!), and all buckled up. I cranked the a/c and we headed down the road toward home, hoping the milk wouldn't spoil before we got there. A few blocks later R turned to me with a funny expression.

"I hope we got the Pup..." she said.

Now, if you've ever had a child love a special blankey (aka "the Buppy/Puppy/Pup"), you'll understand the fear that her comment struck in my heart. Where is the beloved blankey? Why didn't I check before we left? Surely it's somewhere in this minivan, right? 


I pulled over into a parking lot, jumped out and started searching around her and her car seat. No luck. I pulled out the stroller and unfolded it, praying her sweet little soft Pup would fall out of it in front of me. Nope. The kids checked all through the van and pulled stuff from under the seats that we haven't seen in a good, long while. But no Pup. My temples were throbbing.

Back to the store we flew. I told the kids to pray for me, and hurried in. Retracing our steps I quickly checked the parking lot, then entered the store and backtracked through the check out lane, up through produce and into the bread aisle.

"Have you seen a little white rag?" I asked the man on his knees stocking loaves. "It's my daughter's blankey." He hadn't.

I turned left and walked by the cheese, quickly glancing always to my right down the long aisles we'd visited. No little white rag to be found.

Thankfully, the Puppy has a twin that we bring out when it's time to wash the dirty little thing. By switching them back and forth we've been able to extend the life of the well-loved lovey far past the normal life-span of a thin, cotton rag. When you're talking about old, raggedy, threadbare Pups, two is always better than one. I felt my eyes filling with tears as I remembered all the good times with Pup.

Pup helps close the gate

Pup visits the zoo

Pup plays with Grandpa

Pup attends B and K's lovely wedding

Pup snuggles with DaddyDon

My heart sank. If one of the precious Pups is gone, that dreaded day when the remaining Pup disintegrates into nothing more than blankey molecules will arrive much too soon. Oh, I just can't bear the thought of S losing her beloved blankey until she is good and ready to give it up!

Just then I turned to the side and looked into the doorway where the meat market guys come and go. And there, against the greasy baseboard, on the bottom of a pile of rubbish swept up from all over the grocery store, was the Pup. I couldn't help but say out loud, "Thank you dear Lord!"

It was filthy, blackened, and pathetic. But I grabbed it up in a second and hurried away with my prize before the sweeper returned for his pile. I missed dumpster diving for that precious little rag by mere seconds.

It's been through several hand-washings and hung out in the sun just for my peace of mind. The Pup seems no worse off than it was before its big adventure. I, on the other hand, have several more grey hairs.

Out Riding Fences

Granny and Grandpa gave our little cowgirl this beautiful rocking horse for her 3rd birthday. She loves it! S and her pony named Pinto spent all day yesterday out riding fences with Dora. This one is for you, Granny! Thank you for finding the perfect pony for S! And don't miss the trick riding near the end :)

Out of the Mouths of Moms

It's hot, and the walls are closing in around here. We've been creative and tried to keep busy with indoor activities, but we are so ready for some cooler weather so we can run around outside again! And right now "cooler" could mean any temperature below 100 degrees. If it ever rains again here in Texas we are going to spend an entire day splashing in puddles. I think the kids may not remember what a puddle is.

After we finish school and chores each day we try to find some fun stuff to do that involves air conditioning. We baked and decorated sugar cookies one day, and the kids chose Christmas shapes to make thing feel cooler. It didn't really work, but we had fun. We dug around in the closet and found every musical instrument we own and they played them all at he same time. We've played hide-and-seek indoors, which reminded me how badly I need to clean out closets around here. We painted pictures. The boys have spent hours with Legos and R is sewing hard on a lovely Christmas surprise.

We got so desperate yesterday that we made birthday cakes out of play-do for S and stuck candles in them.  Then I burned through a half a box of matches lighting candles over and over while we all sang the "Happy Birthday" song umpteen times. Good fun. It felt like surely we'd been at it for at least an hour, but when I checked the clock that mighty mess only used up twenty minutes of the long, hot afternoon.

These words of wisdom came out of my mouth this week:

"Don't bite your brother on the bottom!" (And this wasn't the first time I've said that.)

"Don't lick the fish tank!"

And, one of my favorites:

"Don't lick that frosting off your sister's foot!"

Seriously.

Did I Say That?

Yesterday as the kids paddled around the pool I heard myself say to HA, "Don't bite your brother on the bottom!"
He replied, "But, he does it to me all the time."
Clearly, I'm going to have to keep a closer eye on these two.

Out of the Mouths of Moms

Kids make a person crazy, you know. Here are a couple of quotes straight from this mama's mouth:



"Boys, please use the potty one at a time!"


"No skating in the pickup truck!"


"Don't ever use the scissors to cut a hole in your brother's underwear again!"


"Put that hen down if you're going to eat those cheese balls!"

Straight From the Little Gardener's Mouth

After some gardening, the sweaty kids cooled off in the shade.

 They each chose a popsicle, and seven-year-old HW said proudly, 

"I can name all the popsicle flavors:

Yellow is lemon.

Green is lime.

Red is strawberry.

Blue is blueberry.

And purple is eggplant."

Sliding Into Summer

It's Splash Camp here at Pecan Bluff! Cousin J is here to play, and we are finding out just how much water fun 5 kids can pack into each day. J brought a super cool awesome Slip 'n' Slide, and they gave it a workout! Gram and I had a great time laughing at the faces, the moves, and the wipe-outs.

My Comedian

Mike and I met up in the living room tonight after the kids were all finally tucked in bed. I snuggled up on the couch and asked him sweetly, "Can you stoke the fire? It's chilly."

He handed me a throw and grinned, "Here, take a blanket. Firewood doesn't grow on trees, you know."

Fuzzies

Turns out, that if two little boys happen to leave one of these

 on the floor of their bedroom,

 and their Mama steps on it barefooted in the dark,

 she can jump really, really high.

Therapy for Perfectionism

I committed this year to make sure my kids are all well-trained in homekeeping. Well, at least the three oldest. The baby is still perfecting the art of homemessing, and I'll leave her to her work for a few more years.

So, today we started our BIG clean-up to make the house nice and merry for Christmas guests and Daddy, since he will be home. And, since I promised myself I would slowly go insane teach them all the wonderful skills involved in homekeeping, I decided that today the boys and I would thoroughly clean the kids bathroom. Together.

They both already know how to wipe down the bathroom each day as part of their chores. But they are seven, and this bathroom has four kids using it... so you can imagine that the little wipe down they give it isn't exactly up to Mama's BIG clean-up standards. Nope. Today's cleaning was the real deal, and it was time to dive in.

Things started well, because it was all fun and games when both boys got to stand in the bathtub and scrub the dirt rings out. That was right up their alley, what with all the elbowing and slipping and sliding. It was less fun to clean the toilet, and wiping up the floor was a downright drag. But they did well and didn't complain about the work, and perhaps their aim will be better in the future now.

For me, it was a wonderful opportunity to practice holding on to my sanity when I feel it slipping away. I only raised my voice a little bit one time. That's pretty good since I felt like screaming, "Don't slop cleaner on your brother~ he's right behind you!" and "Can't you SEE that big wad of gunk on the floor in front of you? Right there! You just stepped in it! Get it, already!"

Nope, I didn't scream those things. At least not out loud.

And by the end of the adventure my boys were proud of the work they had done, and my standards were waaaaay lower. Voila! I'm feeling less and less like a perfectionist every day. Thanks guys.

You Did What?

My older son just walked out of the bathroom after his bath

and stated matter-of-factly,

"Mom, there weren't any towels,

so I had to dry off on the bath mat."

I Haven't Learned How, Yet

I overheard my two oldest kids talking while everyone lounged in the living room waiting for the breakfast muffins to bake. Big sis turned to her seven-year-old brother and said, "Last night your snoring kept me awake!"

Indignant, he replied, "It wasn't me! I haven't learned how to snore, yet."

I Have No Idea...

Saturday Funnies

Last night during Family Time Mike asked youngest to lead our family in prayer. We all bowed our heads, and the little guy carefully folded his hands and began a sweet prayer of thankfulness.

As usual, he covered a lot of ground and managed to thank the Lord for everything from fish to construction paper. But before the amen, he added one quick request.

"And dear God, please help me to grow up to be a man and have lots of hair like Daddy. Or Esau."

True Confession

A friend sent me a link to a contest. For a prize, moms can confess something they've done that would make June Cleaver wince. Sounds like fun, but I don't have time to join in any contests right now. So I'll just make my confession here on my little blog.

The whole family was scrambling out the door for church. As the boys ran out the door in front of me, I noticed their hair was sticking up like they'd just dragged out of bed. I searched frantically for a hairbrush. In my purse? Nope. In the basket by the hair ties? Nope. Checking the clock again, I knew what had to be done. I snagged the vegetable brush from beside the sink, grabbed a kid and went to work.

In my defense, we made it to church on time. And this only happened once. Or maybe twice.

They Grow Up So Fast!

Mike has been out of town this week again, and the kids missed Daddy terribly.

 He got home this evening just as they were finishing baths.

 After big hugs all around he pulled out some surprises he brought them.

 I laughed so hard I could hardly take the pictures.

 I love my guy.

Paper or plastic?

Last night after the kids were asleep the house was finally quiet. Mike and I spread out some paperwork so we could catch up on some banking and budgeting. While I bent over the papers with my pencil, he went to the study to get the calculator. Then he came back and reported that our calculator wasn't in the study. Off he went to see if the kids had one in with their school stuff. No luck there either. After about 10 minutes of searching various rooms in the house, he gave up.

"I don't guess you'd consider using this, would you?" he asked.

I looked up from the papers to find him holding the kids colorful toy cash register, complete with fake scanner, credit card slot, and a tiny belt for groceries. At that point we couldn't be choosy, so we got to work. Fortunately the kids didn't wake up and catch us playing with their toy.

You really can figure the family budget on a toy cash register. And the beeps make it more fun.

Monday Funnies

I sat on the couch nearby, watching my 6-year-old son stretched out across the floor. He was carefully building a Lincoln Log cabin.

"So, what are going to be when you grow up?" I asked.

"A train engineer on a steam locomotive," he quickly answered. "What do you wanna be when you grow up, Mom?"

"A mom," I said.

He looked up from his construction project. "Won't you be tired of it by then?"

"Substantial"

I got a note in the mail the other day reminding me that our family is racking up daily fines for two library books that are overdue. I went by the library to pay the fines and tell them that the books are NOT lost, just hiding somewhere in my house. I hoped the books could be renewed to buy myself a little more time to search. Instead I got a grouchy clerk who would not renew them, and also pointed out that even though I paid the fines to date, fines would "continue to accrue." I left in shame, but was determined to find We Love Fruit! and Thomas' Railway Word Adventure and return to hand them in to that grouchy librarian in person.

One week later the minivan was cleaned to the point of vacuuming (a semi-annual event), the closet floors uncovered, every bookshelf sorted, each backpack searched, and every desk cleared. Lo and behold, we found the fruit book! Oh the joy! I raced to return it but the grouchy librarian wasn't there. So, I inserted it triumphantly into the return slot.

Meanwhile, slacker mom got another notice in the mail. It was apparently from that grouchy librarian. It no longer shows how much I owe, but instead states ominously that the Thomas book is so overdue that my "fines are substantial." What in the world does that mean? Just how substantial do library fines get? I don't really want to know.

Now, where in the world would two 5 year old boys stash a book? I obviously have no idea, but I'm off to check the freezer.

Gratitude

My daughter walked into the living room and found my 5-year-old son closely studying the giant wall map.

"Whatcha doing?" she asked.

"I'm gonna write a letter to China," he replied, "to thank them for the crayons."